Denethor and Finduilas
by Cadiliniel
Summary: The events leading up to the betrothal of Denethor and Finduilas.


_Denethor and Finduilas_

**DISCLAIMER: These characters aren't mine (I wish!). They belong to Tolkien and no one else. I wish only to do them justice in my writing, and hopefully amuse myself and those who read them.**

Finduilas stirred awake. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning quietly. She looked about her chamber as she dressed. She was still not used to the room, even though two weeks had passed since she had arrived in Minas Tirith in the company Ecthelion, Steward of Gondor. Ecthelion and her father were close friends through their many years of service together. Finduilas had reluctantly agreed to accompany Ecthelion back to Minas Tirith, where she met his son, Denethor. She often thought of him. He was a strange character, quite difficult to understand. She did not think he liked her much and that did not help her mood. She was missing the sea.

She walked from her room to try and find something to eat. She wore a light blue gown that trailed along the floor slightly as she walked. As she walked round a corner her mind was elsewhere and she bumped into Denethor. "Do they not teach to watch where you walk in Dol Amroth?" he asked, rather coldly. Finduilas was taken aback and tried to say something but couldn't. Denethor sighed a little. "I am sorry, my lady. I…" he paused, "I was not watching where I was going either." He rubbed his brow. "Have you breakfasted?"

"Not yet." She answered curtly.

"Would you care to join me? I am on my way to meet my father." Finduilas paused slightly. But half a minute earlier he had spoken to her as though she were but an annoying child, yet now he was asking her to accompany him? She did not understand, but she followed her heart.

Finduilas sat and watched as Denethor and his father spoke together. She had just finished her bread and fruit and watched in wonder as the two men discussed the day's business. She was just taking a sip of water when Ecthelion stood up. "I will not have you antagonise him, Denethor! You are my son and it is your responsibility to treat the city's soldiers as I do. While I am Steward you must do as I command. I will see you at noon when we call the men for inspection." And with that, Ecthelion left the dining hall, nodding to Finduilas as he passed. Slowly, Finduilas put down her cup, trying not to make a sound. She did not know whether to speak or just to leave. The silence, however, was broken.

"Why do you not simply laugh as everyone else does? They do not hide their amusement."

"I do not find anything amusing." Finduilas replied. Denethor turned from her, his head hanging.

"Everyone else in this city does. And who can blame them? The heir to the Stewardship out-done by a common soldier! It is miserable!"

"They should laugh at themselves for being so ignorant." Finduilas said warmly. Denethor held his head in his hands. He stood up suddenly and his voice shook as he spoke.

"Forgive me my lady, but I must take my leave." He left the hall swiftly, his cloak flowing behind him. Finduilas's eyes rested on the door where Denethor had just left.

Denethor watched as his father marched by many rows of soldiers, ensuring all was in order. He yawned slightly, having not slept much the night before. His mind was restless. He pretended to himself that he did not know why, but his heart knew. It was Finduilas. She had captivated him, and in truth he knew it. Her hair was as dark as raven feathers, her face as pale as marble; her eyes were dark, yet glimmering with life. He could not get her visage from his mind.

Denethor regretted being so cold with her. He wanted to talk to her but could not muster up the courage. And that annoyed him. He was a man of war and politics, but could not speak to this woman. He did not think himself worthy of one so beautiful – or young!

Denethor looked at Thorongil exercising with some of his men on the field. He turned away. The Steward's heir could not stand to watch this young soldier excelling himself in combat. Denethor was aging and he knew it. Finduilas watched the men train at times, and he knew that too. He resented Thorongil's youth. He was jealous. Not only jealous, but he resented that fact that he was acting like a child. He sat on the grass and thought some more.

Finduilas entered her room to find a book to read. She had enough of watching the men from afar, their matters of war did not interest her. As she looked on her shelf she noticed from the corner of her eye a sheet of paper upon her bed. She picked it up. It was folded in half, and on the flap was written in an elegant script; _Lady of Dol Amroth_. She opened the sheet of paper and read:

_My lady,_

_I feel I must apologise for my behaviour these past weeks. My heart beats all the faster to see you, yet I cannot bear to look upon such a beauty without feeling pain. I do not wish to trouble you with my personal torments, therefore I would understand if you would wish to avoid a pitiful fool such as myself. I do not compare to the men of this city as I should, I understand that you would look upon him with greater awe than when you look upon me. Therefore I hope that you can forgive my coldness of speech; I wish only for you to know that my heart truly feels naught but warmth for you._

The note was not signed. Finduilas sat on the edge of her bed, confused. She was shocked to read such words addressed to her, so much so tears came to her eyes. She blinked slowly and realised the time.

Ecthelion, Denethor, Thorongil and Finduilas sat around the great table of the feasting hall having just enjoyed a filling meal. Wine was brought to the table as the company enjoyed the evening. "Thorongil, you never cease to amaze me! Today, as we exercised the troops, he out ran all the other men! Every last one! And by quite a distance! Isn't that wonderful?" Ecthelion was particularly merry that night. Thorongil blushed.

"Indeed it is wonderful." Denethor said, flatly.

"It is merely a feat of body, still." Said Finduilas, purposefully. "Something interesting has happened to me today. I received a note, unsigned, in my chamber. Who would have access to my room, Lord Ecthelion? I would very much like to know who wrote it."

"Well, I would say my lady that there are few who have access to it and even fewer who should dare enter!" Ecthelion exclaimed, "I shall have to increase security to the lodgings…"

"No, it is not that I complain of an intrusion my lord. I would just like to know who wrote it. Do you know, Lord Denethor?" asked Finduilas innocently.

"No I do not, my lady." He replied, again coldly. "If you would excuse me for a moment, I have the urge to go outside for some evening air. Follow me if you wish, but I would not have you leave the company of one as noble as Lord Thorongil." It seemed that he almost spat the last words. He left the table with as much dignity as he could, and went out onto the courtyard.

Ecthelion and Thorongil thought nothing of Denethor's behaviour, as they were used to his mood swings. They started to share a new tale of heroism and Finduilas did not know what to do. She waited a while thinking on the words of the letter, then said: "I would like to take a look at the stars on such a clear night as tonight. If you would excuse me, my lords."

Denethor sat upon a stone bench that looked out across the city and the field of Pelennor. He looked at the stars and sighed. The night was clear and crisp; Denethor pulled his large grey cloak closer about him. He heard a noise behind him, and when he turned he saw Finduilas come through the door. He swiftly turned back around and held his head in his hands. He could not talk to her now. Surely she knew?

Finduilas saw Denethor sitting alone, his shoulders slightly hunched, but his head looked up at the sky. She stood a moment and looked at him, and thought that he cut a lonely figure against the night's sky. Not unlike herself, she thought. She walked towards him, making only the slightest sound. She sat next to him on the bench, and looked at the sky. "It is a beautiful night." She said, simply. Denethor looked at her as she watched the stars. Her dark hair shone in the light of the moon, her blue eyes glimmered as the stars. Denethor perceived a certain sadness in her face, one he had not notice before.

"It is always beautiful here. Oft I will watch the stars. They are comforting."

"Comfort for what?" Finduilas asked, concerned. Denethor sighed and looked at his hands.

"Everything. My father's disappointment, Thorongil's excellence…" He trailed off. "I have no place here. The people do not look up to me as they should their future leader. I may as well be a common soldier."

"But you are more than that! You are more than a mere soldier! You are a more than worthy successor to your father."

"He does not think so. He looks to Thorongil to make things right." Denethor speedily wiped a tear that had fallen to his cheek, in the hope that Finduilas would not see.

"Is that who you think I would be in awe of? Lord Thorongil?" Finduilas looked at him, but he would not look at her.

"I do not know of what you speak my lady." There was a pause as Finduilas looked at him and he did not even try to wipe the tear from his cheek. He closed his eyes. "Why should you not be in awe of him? He is young, handsome, learned!" Finduilas smiled a little.

"That is true. But I am not in awe of him. I am in awe of someone else." Denethor shook his head and sighed loudly.

"I am sorry my lady. I have acted as a child. I could not tell you any other way."

"Why ever not?!" Denethor suddenly let out a wry laugh.

"Why would a lady as young and beautiful as yourself wish to marry an old fool like me?" Finduilas smiled again.

"Marry, my lord? How could she not?" Denethor stood and walked to the balcony.

"Do not taunt me, Lady Finduilas." Finduilas walked towards him and leaned against the balcony wall. She put her hand on Denethor's hand upon the stone wall.

"I would not object to your asking, my lord." Finduilas said, barely above a whisper. Denethor looked at her earnest face. He could not believe he had told her so much. He also could not believe what he was about to do.

"Lady Finduilas of Amroth, would you do me the utmost honour and agree to be my wife?" She looked at him, and for the first time noticed that he was smiling. She pushed a fallen section of Denethor's graying hair back behind his ear.

"I would." She said, and smiled. Tears came again to Denethor's eyes, only this time they were tears of happiness. He looked upon her fragile beauty and could not believe his eyes. He took her face in his hands and kissed her under the starlit sky.

_The End  
_


End file.
